Shadowplay
by LogicBomb.32
Summary: AU Caskett Fic Beckett is an assassin, spending a few months after a very public job cooling down in NYC. What happens when she meets journalist Rick Castle whose latest story has put himself and his daughter at risk, will she use her skills to help 'em?


**Title: Shadowplay **

**Author: LogicBomb.32 **

**Summary: AU Caskett Fic. Beckett is an assassin, spending a few months after a very public job cooling down in NYC. What happens when she meets up and coming journalist Richard Castle and his daughter? When his next story puts him and Alexis in danger will Beckett use her skills to help them? **

**Authors Note: Alright-y folks, here is the deal. This chapter is being posted because I want to know if there is interest for this story. If there is I'm going to write the rest of it, if not, well I'll scrape it and go back to my other fics. Enjoy!**

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><p>His life was resting gently on her finger, not that he had a clue really. Not that he had a clue that his life was about to end, that she was about to cut it short with the instinctive twitch of her index finger. And yet, as she crouched on the rooftop, she knew not to think of him that way. It was impractical to think of him as a man, as a human with a wife and a mother, instead go the easier route and remember him as the drug dealing, child murdering scum bag he was. Eliminate the humanity from a person and what you're left with is the bare essentials.<p>

And a person is hardly a person if you look at them through the scope of the bare essentials.

Whatever helped her sleep at night she supposed. Not that it mattered, not when she knew the nightmares were coming, when she knew that the faces of those lives she had stolen would come rising from the abyss and haunt her. They created her own personal hell, she created her own personal hell. It had been a choice, one that had come to her in the heat of the moment, in the pain of her mothers murder and she had sworn vengeance. Against who, well, blurred and fading memories were all she had to remember her mothers killer by. Memories and a name.

Never mind that now, her window was coming, the ten step gap where the shadowy gangland leader, Ferdinand Rodriguez's life would be over. No bulletproof glass or armor plated cars that would squash her precious bullet flat. It was, very seriously, now or never.

And it would be now.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Blink._

_Pull._

**CASTLE**CASTLE**CASTLE **

His head hurt, somewhere beyond throbbing and just before splitting, probably cozied up right next to excruciating. Served him right for the bottle of whiskey he had enjoyed last night, the whole thing, by himself. Not the smartest choice he had ever made, but getting served divorce papers by your ex-wife's/_(former?) _editor lawyer gave him an excuse. Or that's what he told himself as he heaved himself out of bed.

He knew that he should have seen it, living in separate apartments and speaking only when it was work related were all indicators that the papers were a long time coming. That did not, however, make them any less painful and only added to his headache now. But as soon as he pulled open the door to his bedroom, he forced a groggy smile on his face and stepped into the blazing sunshine streaming in through the window. Exposure to the light made his head throb even more but he took another cautious step and found relief in a patch of shade "Good morning." Someone said from the direction of the kitchen.

Forcing his eyes open he turned and saw Alexis maneuvering in the cramped space with a pan of scrambled eggs being tipped half onto the floor and half onto the plate before her "Morning." He said as he leant up against the counter and caught the cup of steaming coffee she slid to him.

It was silent for a moment as he let the liquid sear his throat and stomach, it felt good "Are we feeding an army I don't know about?" He asked, looking at the array of food being prepared.

"No." she replied, not looking up from the bacon she was turning over in the pan "I just figured-" she trailed off, meeting her fathers gaze and reading the hangover written all over it "It's Sunday, we have nothing to do and I was bored."

"So you cook enough to feed the entire building." He paused for a moment, looking at the envelope on the fridge, it was addressed to Mr. Richard E. Castle, the formality of his entire name indicating the seriousness.

His daughter followed his gaze and plucked the device from the magnet holding it to the door "Are these the papers?" she asked, looking at her father.

He nodded "I'm sorry." He said, a moment of seriousness flashing across his face as he took the envelope from her hand and replaced it on the fridge "But back to this bacon." He said, snatching a finished piece from the paper towel where it was resting and crunching on it as Alexis whacked him with the towel "It's delicious." He said as he danced just out of her reach.

"And I wasn't done cooking it yet." She said, keeping an eye on her father as she finished assembling the plates of food.

"Best cure for a hangover, bacon." He said

"I thought that was coffee." she commented, moving the plates of eggs, bacon and pancakes to the table while her father brought out the cranberry juice and the maple syrup.

"The experts can never agree." He replied, taking a forkful of eggs and dipping into a strange mixture of ketchup, hot sauce and, to his daughters' continued disgust, Ranch dressing.

"Good point." She concurred, grimacing as she watched her father eat "Do you really have to ruin perfectly good eggs with that, that concoction?"

"It's not being ruined, it's being" he paused "added to."

"Yeah" Alexis snorted "In a really nasty way."

"In your opinion."

"And mine's the only one that matters." She said, flashing a sly smile at him.

Castle smiled in between mouthfuls, at his daughter. He was not the most responsible of adults, a fact she reminded him of on a daily basis, but when it came to his daughter she was the greatest part of his life. Hands down.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked as he lifted her empty plate from the table and dumped it in the sink to start cleaning.

"Oh, I don't know." She said, wincing at the clattering of dishes into the sink "Maybe catch that movie you wanted to see?" she offered, turning on the water "What was it called again?"

"Son of Rambo."

"He had a son? I thought it was all violence."

"Not all violence apparently, not sure what the connection to Rambo is though. Story focus' on a kid with a video camera."

"Filming his father's escapades?"

"Doubtful, there's a French exchange kid in it."

"Even better, they always cause problems."

Castle turned to look at his daughter, eyes narrowed in playful confusion "And how would you know that?"

She shrugged "Last year there was this French kid that was living with Kaylee Binder for the semester. She kicked him back to France after two months, kid got arrested twice and was failing three classes."

"So one student speaks for them all?" he challenged

"Sure, when the same thing happens next semester as well. That's when they banned exchange students for a while."

"Only a while?"

"The parents started complaining, there was a board meeting and everything about it. Even the PTA took an official vote."

"Then how come I never heard about it?"

"You're not on the PTA or the executive board so that rules those out and the article was cute from the spring newsletter."

"Ah." He said, handing her the last clean dish "That would explain it." Then turning to her he said "Should I run for PTA president?"

She laughed "Sure, and then you propose laser tag during the passing periods."

"Great idea." He said, grinning "Do you think they'd take it?"

"Somehow no."

"I don't know how you got that idea." He said collapsing on the couch, just as his phone went off "Castle." He said without glancing at the Caller ID.

Alexis leaned against the counter, watching as her dad talked on the phone with, and this was her best guess, an informant. However what informant it would be, that was a mystery, her father had half a dozen written down somewhere and probably a dozen or so more in his head. He was a journalist, up and coming for the Crime and Criminals section of the New York Times.

All it would take was the one big break, the one article that would put him to the top of the editors list and with a splash on the front page. And if she knew anything about her father, this big break must be coming up. What else would explain the long nights, hushed phone calls the recent presence of a **Glock 9mm **in the drawer by the door?

"Who was that?" she asked as he hung up and set the phone down, a look of glee hidden quickly beneath his composure.

"Someone." He said

"CI?"

He shrugged.

"Got a break?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He said as he walked back into his bedroom and headed towards his computer "Get me out of here in an hour." He added turning to cast a glance back at his daughter.

"Perfect." She said "I have a Chemistry quiz tomorrow that I can study for."

"Lucky you." He said before closing the door.

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><p><em>So, it is most crucial for me to know your thoughts about this. If you're interested in reading more about Beckett and how she walked down the road to becoming an assassin or what Castle has possibly gotten himself into now, then please let me know! <em>

_If not, if you think that I should scrap it…well…tell me that as well. I genuinely want to know! _

_Thanks, _

_Logicbomb.32 _


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